


Wanna be my pandemic buddy?

by xavier87



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Covid pandemic, F/F, Friends With Benefits, No Strings Attached, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Smut, Strap-On, Vaginal Sex, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29353092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavier87/pseuds/xavier87
Summary: When Clarke, a 29-year-old graphic designer stuck at home during the lockdown hears about the Dutch Institute for Public Health's official guidance to find someone to "share physical contact with" to limit the risks, she realizes that this might be her chance to get Lexa, her beautiful neighbor, into her bed.They start sleeping together and the chemistry is amazing, but will they manage to get over their emotional constipation before the pandemic ends?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 81
Kudos: 309





	1. Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty and naughtier version of my fic "Big Brother is watching you" during the pandemic. Because it leaves me with too much free time and apparently I can't stick to writing only one fic at a time! Enjoy
> 
> Set in an undefined country that has implemented a very strict lockdown to try to limit the number of new cases (like in Europe or some Asian countries).

Adjusting her mask for the nth time, Clarke took a deep breath to steel her nerves, and resolutely knocked on the door of apartment 4B, across the hall from hers. She waited a moment for the wooden separation to open, and smiled when it finally did, grateful that the stupid cotton rectangle covering half of her face was hiding her instinctive reaction. The woman standing in front of her, half-hidden behind the door, was as gorgeous as always, even though she probably hadn’t been outside of her apartment in days and wore sweatpants and a comfortable T-shirt. And the best part was, in her hurry to answer the knock, she wasn’t wearing a mask, leaving the blonde free to admire the pouty lips she had been dreaming of kissing more and more recently.

“Clarke, hi. Is everything all right? Do you need something?”

“Hi, Lexa. How are you?”

A perfectly plucked eyebrow rose at the tentative small talk. Ever since the number of Covid-19 cases had exploded, the government had put in place a series of strict measures to contain the pandemic. Closed borders, masks at all times, social distancing, restaurants and gathering places closed for the time being, and telecommuting as the new norm. As a result, fewer and fewer new cases were being reported every day, but people were feeling lonelier than ever, and social interactions were practically nonexistent. Knocking on your neighbor’s door to chitchat was highly discouraged, and the writer had not expected any visit. She was still nice enough not to close her door in the blonde’s face and Clarke, encouraged by the brunette’s curiosity, carried on.

“Have you watched or read the news recently?”

“Not really, no,” the young woman replied. “All they talk about is the pandemic, it’s depressing. Why? Did I miss something?”

“Well, the Dutch Institute for Public Health released an official guidance a few days ago that might pique your interest. With the current danger we face every time we go out and meet someone, they recommend single people to find a person to have regular contact with. That way, we can enjoy physical contact while limiting the risks of spreading the virus.”

To her credit, Lexa didn’t outright laugh, or slam the door in Clarke’s face, and that counted as a small victory. Instead, she looked at the blonde with curiosity and a glint of something mischievous in her viridian eyes.

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about sex, right?”

“Yes. Sex,” Clarke nodded, proud of herself for not blushing too hard or stuttering. “Or you know, cuddles are allowed too. Physical contact in general.”

“Hmm. And you want me to be your ‘cuddle’ buddy? Why me?”

Lexa knew why, and Clarke knew that she knew. Ever since the brunette had moved into the building a few months before, they had exchanged smoldering looks and alluring smiles. A couple of weeks before the world was turned upside down and the pandemic started, they had even matched on Tinder, confirming their mutual attraction. But neither of them had had the guts to do something about it and risk the awkwardness of meeting in the elevator if things didn’t pan out. But now, unable as they were to meet anyone else, Clarke was willing to revisit the terms of their relationship, and she hoped that Lexa would be amenable.

“Well, Mrs. Fitzpatrick from 3C was my first choice, but I’m allergic to cats and she has like five or six, so it didn’t sound like the best decision. You were simply second best,” the blonde shrugged, earning a chuckle from the usually so composed brunette.

“I see. Too bad for Mrs. Fitzpatrick then. Although a lesbian allergic to cats? I’m sure there is a joke in there somewhere.”

“Bi actually, but yeah, I’ve heard it all before.”

“So,” Lexa continued with a smirk as she let her neighbor inside her apartment, “what do you have in mind exactly?”

“Well, frankly, I miss sex. I’m young and with a healthy sexual appetite, and with this stupid virus, I haven’t met anyone in weeks,” the graphic designer explained, grateful for the lack of judgment on the brunette’s face. If anything, the green eyes seemed to have turned a shade darker, and the blonde felt herself get wet at the sight of the blown pupils. “We live near each other and I know that you haven’t been out much, and neither have I. So, the risk of infection is very low, which makes this situation ideal. We can simply agree to meet whenever one of us feels like it and we are free. If the other can’t or isn’t in the mood, no biggie. If for whatever reason we find ourselves at risk of having been exposed, we suspend this for at least two weeks to make sure we’re not contagious.”

“So, I’m conveniently close enough to qualify as your pandemic sex buddy?” Lexa summarized, and Clarke would have been afraid of having offended her if not for the predatory smile pulling at her lips.

“Fine, you’re also gorgeous, smart, and I know that your career keeps you busy enough that you won’t smother me. I’m not looking for a relationship right now, I am way too busy, and from what I understand, neither are you. So, this is perfect.”

“You do make a compelling argument,” the brunette acquiesced, and the blonde knew that the deal was done. She could only hope that Lexa would prove to be as good in the sack as she was in Clarke’s daydreams. With long fingers like that, it would be a crime if she wasn’t.

“No strings attached then?”

“No strings. It’s just until this lockdown is over, or until one of us decides to call it quits.”

“Should we shake on it?”

“I have a better idea,” the blonde smirked before entering Lexa’s space. She heard the faint intake of breath coming from the brunette’s mouth, but since she didn’t meet any objection, she caught the side of the writer’s face and placed her lips on the pouty ones.

Clarke had a lot of first kisses. Often that led to more, although not always, and she knew that, objectively speaking, she was good at it. Practice makes perfect, right? Some were very nice, with just the right amount of pressure and a flick of tongue. Some were okay-ish, too tentative or invasive, but with time her partners improved. A few had been bad, due to a lack of skill or chemistry, like that time in junior year of high school with Bellamy, before they both agreed that they worked better as friends. But this one, with Lexa, was phenomenal. It contained the excitement of the novelty, while having some familiarity and ease that usually came after weeks of being together. It made her heart thud, and her body burned with the pent-up desire she had tried to ignore for months. She had imagined how it would feel to kiss those attractive pillows, but her dreams had nothing on reality. She could taste a hint of strawberry — Lexa’s lip balm maybe? — and her own lips parted for a sigh when the brunette took a step back before she angled her head and leaned in again.

This time, their mouths moved more, sliding against each other, and the blonde stroke Lexa’s lower lip with her tongue. Her hand had moved to the nape of the writer’s neck, holding her in place as she began ravaging the delightfully welcoming cavern, and her fingers tangled in the baby hair. When Lexa let out a breathy moan, only a prelude of what she might sound like when she comes, Clarke felt a jolt of electricity travel from her tongue, wake her nipples, and end in her sex, making her clench around nothing. The brunette’s body seemed to mold to hers as they got closer, eliminating all distance between them. Their chests rubbed, their hands slid under their clothes, exploring and kneading the soft skin, and Clarke nearly lost it when she realized that Lexa had gone al fresco. Between the pebbled buds she could see through the thin T-shirt and the round and firm butt cheek her left hand had taken possession of, the blonde needed to see the other woman naked and under her, and she rasped, “I want you.”

They tumbled to the sofa in a mess of limbs and half-ripped clothes, the bed too far away in their state of arousal. With a bit of shuffling, the graphic designer found herself on top, one of her thighs wantonly rocking against Lexa’s bare center. The brunette had lost her pants somewhere in the middle of the living room, and her wetness was already covering Clarke’s skin, easing the friction. The blonde sneaked a hand under the T-shirt that had rolled up to the underside of the brunette’s boobs, barely concealing the very hard nipples under it. When a thumb brushed against one of them, Lexa released a whimper and bit into the older woman’s shoulder, making her squirm. Clarke thought she had won this round and readied herself for more when, all of a sudden, the 27-year-old grabbed her ass and rolled them over until she was hovering above with a smirk. Lexa helped the blonde out of what was left of her clothes, and both of them were naked in a few seconds, staring at each other with dilated pupils and bruised lips.

“You first,” Clarke said when inquisitive fingers scraped along her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, all the way down to the apex of her thighs. When the other woman ignored her and continued her journey south, she added. “It was my idea after all.”

Lexa smiled and shook her head slowly before cupping the blonde, eliciting a moan. Long fingers parted the glistening folds, spreading the wetness around. When the brunette pushed two of them in, pausing halfway through to give Clarke time to stretch and take her in, the 29-year-old let her head fall back, vanquished. She would have her revenge later. The blonde squirmed and rocked her hips to match the writer’s quickening pace, moaning each time the fingers inside her curled and pressed against her spongy wall.

“Faster… Oh, there!” she panted in a small ear, and Lexa hummed before repeating the gesture over and over, her fingers coated in slick.

The 29-year-old couldn’t focus long enough to move her own hand and touch the brunette where it mattered the most, but she refused to just lie supine and be taken. Her hands took position around the narrow hips, helping Lexa cant and grind against her. She wanted to pull her higher, close enough that she could suck the perfect pink nipples taunting her, but her neighbor had other ideas. Without stopping her rocking movement, she thrust and added a twisting motion that was going to be the death of Clarke. When a strong thumb started rubbing at her throbbing clit, the blonde took off like a rocket and spilled herself all over Lexa’s hand with a cry. Struggling to catch her breath, she nosed the woman’s pulse point, making the brunette shudder. Clarke had come harder than she had in a long time, but she had been dreaming about this for far too long to stop already.

Once her heartbeat had slowed down, she grabbed Lexa by the back of her neck and crashed their lips together, in a kiss that was all fire and renewed hunger. The writer rocked above her, looking for some friction on her red and pulsing clit. Clarke considered for a second bringing her hand down and let her impale herself on it, but the desire to be on top was stronger. Sensing Lexa’s growing need, she pushed on one strong shoulder and twisted her body until the brunette was sprawled on the large sofa, her untied hair haloing her beautiful face.

A rasp cry escaped the parted pouty lips when the blonde’s fingers pushed in, savoring the feeling of warmth and wetness that greeted her. The velvety walls sucked her in and fluttered around her, and she could tell that the brunette wouldn’t last long. _It’s fine_ , she thought, _it’s only the first round anyway_. As she had anticipated, the 27-year-old came less than five minutes later, and what a beautiful sight it was. The whimpers turned into a full-blown moan, her face went slack, and her emerald eyes rolled back in her head while her body shook and rocked. Once the aftershocks had subsided, Clarke carefully removed her hand, and peppered kisses all over the woman’s chest and stomach, lowering herself until she was faced with a hardened clit and folds covered in slick.

 _Best idea ever_ , she thought as she brushed her tongue against the lower lips, accustoming herself with Lexa’s sweet and tangy taste. The world might have gone to shit, and no one knew how long it would take before it went back to normal, but as she used her mouth to pleasure the neighbor she had had a crush on for weeks, she decided that there were way worse ways to pass the time.


	2. Day 13

Cursing and muttering under her breath, Clarke was about ready to pull out her hair in frustration when a ring distracted her from the project she had been working on for hours.

**Lexa (8:51 PM)**

_Are you free now?_

The blonde smirked at the text message, knowing exactly why her neighbor was contacting her, but she hesitated to reply. The two women had met three times during the first week of their arrangement, and an impressive four times in a row during the second one. The sex was earth-shattering, leaving Clarke both exhausted and reinvigorated at the same time. No wonder she kept going back for more, she had had more orgasms in the past two weeks than over the course of the past four months due to the stupid pandemic making people panic and abstain from going out even before the lockdown started. But this was also meant to be a low-key uncomplicated thing, and meeting Lexa for the fifth time in a row dangerously infringed on relationship territory. Besides, she had to finish these slides by tomorrow morning, or her boss would have her head. Callie Cartwig, the creative director of Arkadia, might be a kind boss and a friend of her mother, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull Clarke out of the project if she messed up.

**Clarke (8:52 PM)**

_I have to finish a presentation._

**Lexa (8:52 PM)**

_Hmm OK, too bad. I’ll have to keep myself entertained then._

And that was exactly why Clarke had to hit the brakes. The image conjured in her head by the text, Lexa lying on her bed, half-naked, one of her hands rubbing her chest while the other was lost in her underwear, fingering herself with reckless abandon, had gotten the blonde wet enough to stain through her panties in seconds. These days, any time she thought about the stunning woman from across the hallway, she had to take a cold shower and change. This Pavlovian response, both time-consuming and non-eco-friendly, had to stop before it cemented into a reflex impossible to break. Their time together would be limited, and in the future, she wouldn’t be able to afford to be turned on every time she had to share the elevator with Lexa. It was better to nip it in the bud — pun intended — while she still could.

**Clarke (8:54 PM)**

_I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Have a nice evening!_

**Lexa (8:55 PM)**

_I plan to. Good luck with your presentation!_

And yes, rereading her message, Clarke groaned as she realized that she had set herself up with her second sentence. And now the images in her head were worse than before. Did Lexa even own a vibrator? Probably, but the two women hadn’t used toys so far, despite the blonde’s extensive collection. Her head landed on the keyboard with a soft sound while she huffed and squirmed, her panties uncomfortably clinging to her slit. She refused to move them though, knowing what would happen if she risked a hand down her pants. Shifting and wiggling until the garment didn’t brush against her swollen clit anymore, she refocused on the slides for Arkadia’s next pitch. She had put a decent dent in her task when another ring distracted her, and she caught her phone with one hand all while sipping some water.

**Lexa (9:43 PM)**

{image}

_Holy fucking KStew in Birkenstocks_

Clarke choked on her water, nearly spitting it at her computer screen when the image opened on her phone. It was official. Her neighbor would be the death of her, and at that moment, she didn’t even mind. The photo was, objectively speaking, not that risqué. A far cry from the dick pics she had received during that unfortunate time spent on Tinder. It was a selfie, angled to hide Lexa’s face, but showing her mouth, teeth biting at her lower lip, all the way to her waistband. She was wearing nothing more than a classic black bra, with one hand teasing at where the pebbled nipple would be. Her abs, though not overly defined, were contracted, and the blonde whimpered at the memory of the evening she had spent a good 10 minutes licking them before getting herself off rocking on them. It was going to be a long night, and the brunette seemed determined to have her fun.

**Clarke (9:45 PM)**

_You’re the worst!_

**Lexa (9:46 PM)**

_Oh? Not quite the reaction I was hoping for. I seem to remember you having a thing for my abs and chest._

The graphic designer apparently wasn’t the only one who remembered that particular experience. But then, Lexa had come in less than a minute when Clarke had cleaned up the mess she had made with her tongue before moving south of the shining navel. So, really, it had been a mutually beneficial ride.

**Clarke (9:46 PM)**

_I have to work and your sexiness is distracting. I thought you were going to take matters into your own hands tonight?_

**Lexa (9:47 PM)**

_I did. Twice._

**Clarke (9:48 PM)**

_What did you think about?_

Clearly not much more work would be done that night anyway, now that all Clarke could think about was the writer rubbing her nub and pushing her long, skilled fingers inside herself until she came with a raspy moan, not just once, but twice. She might as well indulge in some conversation with the woman responsible for her current state of arousal.

**Lexa (9:50 PM)**

_You. Your pliant, soft lips as I kiss you until you can’t breathe. Your boobs, so beautiful and reactive when my mouth is on them, and those little noises you make when I suckle on your nipples. Your pussy, dripping and warm as I push two fingers in and out, and I curl them to hit just the right spot, the one that makes you shiver every time. The way your back arches when you come, and how it pushes even more of your chest in my face. Your taste on my fingers when I lick them clean, and that look of hunger in your eyes when I do…_

Clarke stood up before she could even finish reading the message, her chair scratching the floor at her quick reaction. She let her phone fall on the table, grabbed her keys, and was out of the apartment in less than a minute, not even bothering to put on a mask. Her knock could have only been described as frantic, and a small voice at the back of her mind scolded her for appearing so eager, but another coming from her underwear pressed her to hit the door again. Thankfully, the wooden separation opened before she could do so, sparing her the embarrassment, and Lexa looked at her with a knowing smirk.

“I thought you were busy tonight working on your presentation?”

“I hate you,” the blonde growled before grabbing the brunette’s neck and side and pinning her against the door. Lexa didn’t give up control easily, something the blonde had discovered the hard — and most pleasurable way — but for once she seemed happy to let Clarke ravage her mouth and grope her outside her apartment.

The graphic designer recovered some of her senses when she had to come up for air. She pulled the brunette inside and kicked the door close with her foot. Not giving Lexa time to argue or take the lead, Clarke maneuvered them toward the bedroom, the sofa too narrow for what she planned to do. The 27-year-old was pliant in her arms, rocking and moaning with each step they took together. Though she had already come twice, Lexa wasn’t apparently quite done, and that worked in Clarke’s favor. The trail of clothes went from the front door to the bedroom, and by the time they entered it, they were both naked, pussies wet and nipples standing at attention. They ended up in bed, the older woman hovering over the brunette, a predatory smile on her face.

“Touch me,” Lexa breathed out, somewhere between a command and a plea, but the blonde had other ideas. It was time to exert some revenge on the naughty neighbor who had interrupted her workflow.

“No.”

Confusion and raw need flashed in the green eyes, and Clarke almost reconsidered her plan, but she soldiered up and continued with an even voice.

“You know what you did. You teased me, sent me a picture and that text just so I would come over and take you, right?” she said, fist-pumping internally when the brunette quietly nodded. “Well, since you couldn’t wait until I was free to touch yourself, you are going to continue doing exactly that.”

“You want me to touch myself?” Lexa clarified, and despite the eyebrow raised in question, the blonde could see the desire in her eyes and hear the needy pants in her voice.

“I want you to fuck yourself,” Clarke whispered in her ear before biting the lob, eliciting a hip roll from the woman supine under her. “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll clean you up afterward.”

It was a credit to how much turned-on Lexa had to be already that she didn’t even try to argue, or persuade the blonde to change her mind. Instead, she brought one of her hands to her breast and took a nipple between her thumb and index, rolling and pinching it roughly, while the other descended to the apex of her trembling thighs. Clarke had shifted so she was more on her side than on top of the brunette, giving her space to move, and she let her eyes roam over the stunning body of her neighbor. Lexa might work mostly with her imagination, there was no denying that she was also extremely fit. The blonde had learned during their time together that the writer had jogged every day before the pandemic, and now that it was difficult to do so, she did her best to exercise at home for at least an hour a day. _Thank the gods for YouTube videos and yoga classes online_ , Clarke thought as she took in the perky boobs, the flat stomach with a hint of abs, the long, lean legs…

A raspy moan broke her out of her reverie, and she noticed the flush flesh around Lexa’s neck and upper chest, and the way her breathing had accelerated. Her long fingers disappeared between her legs, pumping in and out at a quick pace, and when the brunette threw her head back with a gasp, Clarke couldn’t stop herself from moving down the quivering body to lap the wetness gushing from her slit. Lexa’s clit was too sensitive to withstand the assault, but she didn’t shy away when the blonde’s tongue started cleaning her lower lips and slit, prolonging her orgasm.

Clarke continued licking and probing the soft folds, wondering if she could bring the brunette over the edge for a fourth time, when she felt hands tangling in her flaxen locks and pulling her up insistently. She barely had time to drag herself up that pouty lips were on hers, and Lexa moaned at the taste of herself in the blonde’s mouth. The two women kissed deeply for a few minutes, tongues thoroughly exploring and battling down, and the graphic designer started to wonder if that, combined with her nub rubbing on Lexa’s thigh, would be enough to make her climax.

Before she could find out, however, the brunette lowered one of her hands, her fingers curved so Clarke could ride them. With a little bit of shuffling, the blonde ended up straddling her neighbor, her hands pressed below Lexa’s ribcage to keep herself steady as her hips rolled and rocked at a quickening pace. The long, thin fingers were doing wonders inside her, reaching deeper than her own ever could, and accidentally pressing against her front wall every few moves. When the brunette used her other hand to rub her clit, she threw her head back and came hard, not bothering to cover her moaned, “Fuck!”

When the blue eyes opened, Clarke found herself lying on top of Lexa, her head tucked under the brunette’s chin, and she wondered if she had blacked out for a moment. Based on the woman’s proud smirk, she probably had. For a few seconds, she _really_ considered just staying where she was, warm and comfy in Lexa’s bed, but her fears returned with a vengeance, and she dragged herself out of the tangled sheets to look for her clothes.

“You can stay if you want,” the sleepy voice called, muffled by the pillow the brunette’s face was half-buried in.

“Can’t, I still need to finish my presentation and send it tonight. Someone distracted me before I could do so,” Clarke explained, trying her best to resist the slight pout she glimpsed.

“Hmm, ’kay. Night, Clarke.”

“Goodnight, Lexa,” the blonde murmured as she opened the bedroom door and threw one last glance at the beautiful woman already in the arms of Morpheus.

She ended up sending the presentation a little after midnight, and she couldn’t even pretend to care that she was late, or that she had less than 7 hours of sleep left. _So fucking worth it_ , she chuckled to herself as she closed her eyes, remembering the way the brunette had shuddered and her own powerful orgasm not long after. 


	3. Day 29

After turning off her laptop and taking a shower, Clarke put on a loose T-shirt and a pair of leggings before exiting her apartment. During the previous two weeks, she and Lexa had continued to meet every other day or so to indulge in strenuous activities that did wonders for her stress level.

Even after 48 hours, she could still feel some soreness in her sex, thanks to her neighbor’s amazing skills with a strap-on. It had been the first time the two women had used Clarke’s box of treasures, and the brunette hadn’t disappointed. She made it her mission to fuck the graphic designer relentlessly, rocking on top of her while biting her neck, pushing into her from behind and administering well-timed slaps on the shaking bottom, refusing to stop until Clarke lifted her head from the pillow she was drowning in and begged for mercy. The younger woman sent her over the edge by suddenly rubbing her clit and didn’t pause her hip movements for the whole duration of the blonde’s climax. The 29-year-old had sworn that she would be the one to fuck Lexa next, but she had fallen asleep before she could, and the brunette had quietly taken her leave.

Smirking at the thought of all the things she was planning on doing to her neighbor, Clarke knocked twice and entered. The two of them had agreed to meet at 8 PM after dinner, and Lexa should have been expecting her since the door was unlocked and the blonde was 5 minutes late, but to her surprise, the beautiful brunette was otherwise occupied. The 27-year-old was sitting on her couch frowning, her phone against her ear, and mouthed a “Sorry” when she saw Clarke in her entrance.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine,” Lexa continued her conversation with her invisible interlocutor, and despite her best efforts to remain indifferent, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder who she was talking to. “Is there anything I can do to help? No, of course, you know I’m here if you need me. Yeah, you too. Love you, An. Bye.”

For a moment, Clarke contemplated leaving apartment 4B and returning to the safety of her own. Whoever this “An” was, she clearly meant a lot to Lexa. As far as she knew, the brunette didn’t have a girlfriend — or worse, a wife — but it still felt like she had intruded on a private moment. The look on Lexa’s face, though, half-worry half-sad, pushed her to stay.

“Hey, everything OK?”

“Yes, sorry about that. How was your day?”

And with that, the two women indulged in their usual chit-chat for a few minutes before the true purpose of their evening visits showed, and they kissed. Clarke found herself straddling the writer on her couch, strong fingers massaging her butt, and her own lost in chestnut locks, but something felt off. Not that Lexa wasn’t arousing her, with her small whimpers and subtle hip rolls. It was more of a vibe, as if the blonde could feel the thoughts swirling in her neighbor’s gorgeous head, and it was distracting her too.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked Lexa as she disconnected their lips and moved her head back to look into the viridian eyes she had come to know so well. “You seem to have a lot on your plate.”

“I thought this,” the 27-year-old replied defensively, pointing at the two of them with her long index finger, “was just sex? No strings attached, remember?”

“Lex,” the blonde sighed as she removed herself from the brunette’s lap to sit by her side, “it’s not incompatible. I don’t know about you, but you’re basically the only non-pixelated face I’ve talked to in days. The way I see it, we agreed to be friends-with-benefits. This is me being your friend. If you just want to have sex and forget about it, that’s fine. But if you need to talk about whatever is bothering you, I’m here.”

The writer stayed quiet for a couple of minutes, her upper teeth pulling at her lower lip, lost in thoughts. Clarke didn’t dare to move, afraid as she was to spook the brunette and bring an end to their arrangement. Eventually, though, Lexa broke the uncomfortable silence, her voice smaller than the blonde had ever heard it.

“It was my sister, Anya. She’s a doctor at Polis Hospital, and they are swamped with COVID cases. She basically lives at the hospital right now; she doesn’t dare to go home in case she has caught it too and could transmit it to someone. Her son, Aden, is with his father in a nearby town, and she hasn’t seen him in weeks. She’s exhausted, and depressed, and I don’t know what to tell her anymore. I try to stay supportive, but I’m terrified about her getting sick too, and…”

Clarke had listened to the brunette without interrupting, but when her breath hitched at the last word, she moved forward and pulled Lexa into her arms. Her neighbor curled against her, pouty lips against her shoulder, and the blonde could feel tears fall on her skin. She lifted a hand to massage the back of the woman’s scalp in an attempt to calm her.

“I know it’s scary. All we hear on the news are the number of new cases, the number of dead, and how it isn’t gonna get better anytime soon. But the doctors are doing their very best, and there are measures in place. My mom is a doctor too, so she’s told me about them. Anya has probably mentioned them to you too. They have to wear masks and face shields, everybody who enters has their temperature checked, all the rooms are sanitized much more often than before…”

“I know,” the brunette whispered, and her breath tickled Clarke’s skin. “I’m so proud of her for being there and saving lives. It’s just that I can’t help but worry too. What if she tests positive, what if it gets bad?”

“I’m sure it won’t happen, Lex. But if it does, she will be well taken care of by her coworkers. We are learning new things every day about this virus. A vaccine isn’t going to be ready tomorrow or the day after, but the treatments are more and more effective. We’re going to beat this thing, all of us.”

Lexa extricated herself from the blonde’s arms and grabbed a tissue on the coffee table to blow her nose. Objectively speaking, no one was at their best after crying, with their eyes red and puffy and their snotty nose. And yet, for Clarke, her younger neighbor remained one of the most stunning women she had ever seen, her vulnerability only adding to her charm. She didn’t want to be a creep and take advantage, but when Lexa brought their lips together, she let her. The brunette kissed her with a passion surprising after the emotional display, her pouty lips chasing Clarke’s with intent, her tongue invading the blonde’s mouth as soon as entry was given.

“Are you sure?” the 29-year-old asked as she interrupted them before lust took over. “We don’t have to, I’m happy to just hold you.”

“I want to forget. Please.”

The resolve in the brunette’s voice was enough to convince Clarke, and the blonde nodded her assent. Satisfied, Lexa took possession of her mouth once more, and moved them around so she was hovering over the older woman who lay on the couch. One hand crept under the T-shirt and cupped a heavy breast, the thumb brushing against the nipple that rapidly hardened. As the kisses grew dirtier and messier, Lexa pushed one of her legs between Clarke’s, her thigh pressing against the blonde’s core.

“Lex…” the graphic designer panted, her hips rocking against Lexa in an attempt to get more friction. Both of them were wearing comfortable pants, no zippers or seams to rub against her clit, and the feeling was both arousing and frustrating. The brunette accelerated her movements, almost desperate to feel the other woman under her, but it wasn’t enough for either of them.

“Wait,” the blonde interrupted, grabbing the narrow hips to stop Lexa before wrapping the long legs around her waist and lifting them both off the couch. The writer gasped in surprise when she found herself in the air, Clarke supporting her butt with her hands. The 29-year-old didn’t exercise quite as often as her neighbor, but she was no slouch either. And besides, as she had expected, the brunette didn’t weigh much, and she was able to carry her precious cargo to the bedroom in no time.

Once there, Clarke placed the brunette on the edge of the bed, and proceeded to remove all their clothes with slow and methodical gestures. Until that evening, their couplings had always been rushed and passionate, and particularly the first round. They used to remove their tops and pants in a frenzy, not often waiting to be naked to start stroking each other’s clits, and only slowed down once the initial lust had been satiated. But this time, with Lexa’s fragile state in mind, the blonde offered her something different. She took off item after item until they were both bare, their eyes darkened and lips trembling with emotion. Only then did she reconnect their lips in a kiss that was the sweetest they had ever exchanged. One of her hands got lost in the thick chestnut hair while the other caressed the younger woman’s arm, letting her regain control.

Lexa seemed to have picked up on what the blonde was trying to do because she didn’t rush anymore. Instead, she let her hands roam over her lover’s body, exploring all the skin available to her in a lazy and goalless journey. It was only after long minutes that she finally pulled the graphic designer onto the bed, rolling them over so she was on top. Even then, she kept the slow pace, her mouth peppering the blonde with kisses while her dominant hand skated all the way down to her core. The brunette rubbed her fingers around, coating them with slick, before inserting two of them as deep as she could into Clarke, her green eyes not leaving the blue ones they were staring at. She pulled out almost as slowly as she had entered, before pushing in again, her trusts devastatingly measured and yet efficient.

The blonde wasn’t sure if it was the intense emotions they were sharing, or the fact that this time looked so much more like making love than having sex, but she could feel the pleasure build in her, the pressure increasing at the base of her spine. She knew that the orgasm, when it would arrive, would leave her boneless. Not wanting to be the only one swept away by the impending wave of toe-curling bliss, she lowered her hand until it was rubbing against Lexa’s bundle of nerves.

“Clarke…” the writer moaned, her head thrown back and her eyes closed from the intense sensation erupting from her clit that was reverberated in her whole body.

“I know, Lex, me too,” the blonde reassured her that she wasn’t the only one feeling as if she was about to float out of her own body. Sex with the brunette had been phenomenal from day 1, and got even better as they learned what the other enjoyed most. But this time, as they lowered their defenses and let each other in, the emotional dimension added to the mix was threatening to make them implode. And yet, neither of them attempted to stop. On the contrary, they let the flow take them, their kisses deepening in-between whimpers, and their hands moving with more assurance and determination.

When Lexa angled her forearm slightly differently so her palm pressed against the blonde’s clit, Clarke saw stars. Her back arched off the bed of its own accord, her neck went taut, and a loud moan broke through her closed lips. Overwhelmed by the strength of her orgasm, she lost focus on what she was doing to her lover and her hand still. Luckily for both of them, though, the visual and sound of the older woman’s climax, coupled with the fingers resting against her clit and the needy state she was in were enough to push Lexa over the edge too. The brunette screamed her pleasure at the ceiling, her hips canting erratically against the immobile hand to extend her orgasm until it tapered off and she collapsed on the panting blonde under her.

The graphic designer had an inkling that if she closed her eyes even for a second, she would break the tacit rule between them and spend the night. She had almost found the will to get out of bed before sleep could claim her when Lexa’s arm wrapped around her waist and the brunette’s head landed on her shoulder. It didn’t take more to persuade her to stay, and Clarke placed her hand over Lexa’s without even thinking about it and squeezed it once, smiling when the younger woman tightened her hold. _Adorable_ , was her last thought before the pull became too strong and she let her eyelids fall.


	4. Day 45

A month and a half after the beginning of their arrangement, it was Lexa’s turn to visit Clarke. Both women had been busy with work recently, but they still managed to meet several times a week. Neither of them had spent the night since Lexa’s phone conversation with her sister, and yet something had shifted between them. It wasn’t a rush to have sex followed by somewhat awkward goodbyes once their legs had stopped shaking. They talked more and more, about their families, their jobs, their dreams and aspirations. When Lexa suffered from a mild writer’s block, the blonde helped her get past it by challenging her ideas and plot. And when the graphic designer was so swamped with work that she forgot to feed herself, the brunette brought her some homemade mac and cheese and forced her to take a break. They wouldn’t dare to utter the r-word, or even say that they were dating, but both knew that the lines were getting blurrier with each passing day.

That evening, the younger woman was sitting across from Clarke, the narrow wooden table between them just large enough to prevent their knees from brushing. The blonde had prepared a small but delicious dinner that they were sharing in silence. Or at least, it would have been in silence if not for Lexa’s phone that buzzed at regular intervals.

“Do you need to get that?” the 29-year-old asked, an eyebrow pointedly raised at the annoying device.

“Nah, it’s fine,” the brunette shrugged, before adding when her companion didn’t seem to want to let it go. “I already know what it’s all about, I can reply later.”

“A horde of admirers?”

“Something like that,” Lexa smirked, though her heart didn’t seem to be in it. After a weird silence, she relented. “It’s my birthday.”

“Leeeex! You should have told me.”

The brunette smiled, but the look of mild incredulity in her viridian eyes wasn’t missed by her neighbor. It wasn’t like she expected the blonde to buy her a present apparently. They were somewhat friends, forced by unforeseen circumstances, but that was it. This realization made Clarke sadder than she would have thought. The two women had spent many hours together, mostly for sex, but she had grown fond of the intelligent writer, and the birth of such a kind human being deserved to be celebrated.

Once their dinner was over, an idea struck her. Thankfully, Lexa didn’t argue when she asked her to clean the table and do the dishes, giving Clarke time to get ready. She chose her nicest set of lingerie, some props, a song, and quietly returned into the living room, just in time to see that the brunette was done.

“Take a seat,” she commanded with a sultry voice that made the writer look at her in question. The blonde thought for a moment that Lexa wouldn’t comply, and she discreetly let out a sigh of relief when the beautiful woman pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat, her back straight as ever.

A click on the remote was enough to start the song she had carefully chosen, and the first notes of “Earned it,” by The Weeknd echoed around the room. If the brunette recognized the song, she didn’t show it, too mesmerized as she was by the blonde who approached with her hips swaying.

_You make it look like it’s magic_ _  
’Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you_

The writer looked ready to bounce out of her chair when Clarke lifted her loose top to show her stomach and a hint of a bra, and the blonde had to push her back down with a tut.

“No! You’re not allowed to move or touch,” she whispered into a small reddening ear, making the woman under her whimper. The blonde was standing above her neighbor, her legs widely spread and bent at the knee, her center only inches above the brunette’s lap. She shook and rolled her hips in rhythm with the song, and the way Lexa looked at her bouncing chest made her wet.

_’Cause girl you’re perfect_ _  
You’re always worth it_

Clarke had to stop herself from singing out loud, not wanting to make the woman uncomfortable. Instead, she brought her chest closer to the pouty lips she knew so well, and a whimper escaped her when Lexa kissed it hungrily. Before she could lose control, she pushed the brunette back against the chair and produced a silky ribbon from her back pocket. She moved to tie the writer’s wrists behind the back of the chair, but not before asking, “Is this OK?”

Lexa swallowed thickly and nodded, her dilated pupils showing her arousal. Once she was satisfied with the knot, Clarke resumed her position in front of the younger woman. She sat on the strong thighs, careful not to put her whole weight on Lexa, and not stopping her sensual dance. With a hand, she grabbed the back of the 27-year-old head and brought her closer. She felt the brunette’s teeth close around the soft skin of her neck, the shudder elicited spreading all the way to her sex, and she moaned.

“What do you want, pretty girl?”

“I want to touch you,” Lexa growled as her hips bucked and she licked Clarke’s skin. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

Damn Lexa and her amazing tongue! The blonde almost changed her mind and untied her just to see if she would make good on her words. But it was Lexa’s birthday, and she intended to mark the occasion, not be selfish.

“And you will, later. For now, it’s your day, and we are going to celebrate you. So, I ask you again. What. Do. You. Want?”

Clarke punctuated each word with a hip roll, her still-covered center pressing against Lexa’s stomach. The brunette gritted her teeth and remained quiet, forcing the blonde to up the ante. She pulled her top over her head, and the whimper that escaped the writer’s pouty lips at the sight of the push-up bra let her know that she was about to break.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop,” she whispered, staring at the green eyes that grew even bigger, the words sounding almost like a threat, though the best kind. She remembered how Lexa had fought her for dominance the first time they had had sex. If it had been a month before, she would have hesitated to tease her like this. But after six weeks of sleeping together, she knew the younger woman better, and she had discovered something interesting. Lexa didn’t give up control easily unless she was aroused beyond reason. It didn’t happen often, but if Clarke managed to play her cards right, she could turn her lover into a wanton mess. Not that the writer would ever admit it, but she could be the biggest bottom when the stars aligned.

Wanting to make good on her promise, the blonde took a step back and wiggled out of her shorts, her lacy string visibly stained with her slickness. The song continued to play in the background, but neither woman was paying attention to it anymore. Instead, Clarke brought her hands to the brunette’s torso, grateful that she had chosen to wear a shirt. She made quick work of the buttons and pushed the garment down the slender shoulders. The younger woman’s bra was next, and the blonde unclasped it with one hand before lifting it out of the way. Her fingers immediately found a stiff nipple, pinching and rolling it hard enough to make her neighbor squirm underneath her.

“Clarke, please…”

After a few more minutes of teasing, the blonde sank to her knees in-between the brunette’s legs. She opened the button and zipper of the woman’s pants and bit back a smirk when Lexa lifted her butt without any prompting to help her remove her clothing. As a reward, Clarke took off the writer’s boy shorts too, leaving her naked on the chair except for the shirt and bra that hang from her wrists.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, taking in the glistening folds waiting for her as the 27-year-old attempted to squeeze her thighs to get some relief. With the blonde’s shoulders in the way, she remained open, and her hips canted again. Strong artistic hands wrapped around the shaking butt cheeks and brought the brunette’s center to the edge of the seat.

The moment her tongue connected with Lexa’s wetness, the younger woman rolled her hips and let out a loud moan. Worked up as she already was, it wouldn’t take long to bring her to her climax, and Clarke decided to slow things down a bit. Ignoring the clitoris that was poking out of its hood, red and needy, she lowered her mouth and sucked in the slicked labia, her tongue teasing the entrance without going in. She alternated kisses on each trembling thigh around her head, rejoicing at the whimpers her actions were eliciting. Lexa couldn’t grab her head to move her where she really wanted her, which left her no other option but to wiggle around and plead with the blonde.

Clarke finally took pity on her and took the erect bundle of nerves between her lips, her tongue rubbing against the tip all of a sudden. Surprised, the brunette bucked against her so violently the graphic designer almost fell back on her ass.

“Sorry,” Lexa panted apologetically once she had realized what she had done, and the situation made the older woman laugh before she resumed her previous actions with a little more warning. The slurping sounds, barely covered by the new song that had started playing, would have made the brunette blush if she hadn’t been so consumed by lust.

Taking advantage of Lexa’s inability to move, Clarke lapped at her lover’s center and clit until she was quivering with need and came with a loud moan, her head thrown back and her eyes close. The blonde wasn’t planning on stopping yet, and she lowered herself once more to clean up the wetness that had escaped, giving Lexa’s clit time to recover. After a few minutes, her left hand skidded along a muscular thigh, all the way to the apex of the writer’s thighs. Her middle finger teased the labia and entrance until Lexa broke.

“Fuck me, please.”

With a victorious smile, Clarke obeyed and pushed in a finger, a second one joining in not long after. The brunette was so wet and ready that it slid inside without much resistance, and the blonde set up a rapid pace.

Lexa’s next orgasm took longer to arrive, but it was even more glorious than the first one. Clarke pulled back her lips from the red nub she had been licking to admire the way her younger neighbor contorted on the chair, her inner walls squeezing the blonde’s fingers so hard she couldn’t move them anymore. When it tapered off after several long seconds, the 29-year-old pulled at the ribbon, untying a boneless Lexa who collapsed against her with a moan.

“That was amazing.”

“We’re not done yet. You haven’t begged me to stop, and I’ve been dying to fuck you with the strap-on,” Clarke replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes that made the brunette laugh.

The chair was getting painful for Lexa, and the two women decided to continue their activities in the bedroom. The writer could barely stand up, her last orgasm having robbed her of most of her strength, and Clarke carried her bridal style with a smug look.

The following morning, the blonde woke up with a yawn and was surprised to find the other side of her bed empty. As promised, she had attended to Lexa’s needs with great enthusiasm. She had thrust the toy into the brunette until she had come twice and tapped out, before rubbing herself off on Lexa’s thigh, finally getting some release. Clarke thought it would be the end for the night, as the younger woman passed out soon after from sheer exhaustion. A couple of hours later, however, the blonde was awoken by insistent kisses all over her face and upper chest. The brunette, fully awake, had gone down on her with a vengeance, and she had made Clarke come twice without even using her fingers. The two women had then fallen asleep once more, the writer’s front flushed against the blonde’s back.

The 29-year-old slowly got out of bed, her body sore in various places — she really needed to wear the strap-on more often, Lexa was more amenable than expected if the previous night was anything to go by — and she made her way to the kitchen. To her surprise, the brunette welcomed her with a sweet smile and a plate of freshly made pancakes, a thoughtful thank you for the impromptu birthday celebration. Clarke wanted to point out that making Lexa come four times had been anything but a chore. When she saw the way the writer looked at her, however, shyness and something far more tender than usual shining in her deep green eyes, she simply nodded and demolished the pancakes. It wasn’t every day that a beautiful woman cooked for her after a night of debauchery, she might as well take advantage of it.


	5. Day 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of feelings in this one...

Between telecommuting and the closed sources of entertainment, the days slowly bled into one another. If it had not been for Netflix and Uber Eats, Clarke would probably have died of boredom and starvation already. And for Lexa. If she was being honest, her stunning neighbor was the main reason most of her days weren’t all completely bland. The brunette was becoming a beacon of light and fun into the ocean of apathy that threatened to submerge the graphic designer, and that realization was both comforting and terrifying. Despite their agreement, the blonde knew that, if all the restaurants in the country weren’t closed for anything other than deliveries, she would have already asked the green-eyed woman out on a date. She was considering testing the waters and seeing if the writer would be amenable to rediscussing the terms of whatever they were doing when Lexa beat her to the punch. Unfortunately, she took things in a completely different direction, and Clarke couldn’t even be mad at her.

It all started on the 62nd day of their FWB relationship. The blonde was busy in the kitchen — understand she was removing the delivered food from its containers and placing it into various tupperwares and onto two plates — when Lexa entered her apartment without a word.

“Lex, hey! You’re early, I wasn’t expecting you for another 15 minutes or so.”

“Is everything all right?” the blonde asked when she turned around and noticed the sad look on her companion’s face. Not that she would ever admit it, but she had spent hours studying the angles and curves that composed Lexa’s face, especially when the woman was asleep. Her high forehead, her small and regal nose, those pouty lips she dreamed of in her sleep, the defined cheekbones, and that jawline that covered entire pages of her current notebook. And yet, that particular expression was foreign to her and didn’t foretell anything good.

“We have to stop seeing each other.”

Talk about a punch to the gut. Had she read the situation wrong? She thought she had noticed Lexa looking at her differently in the recent weeks, with more tenderness, but apparently, it had all been a figment of her imagination. Had the brunette sensed that Clarke wanted things to become more serious and decided to call it quits? The blonde stayed silent for a few seconds, doing her best to swallow the pill without letting any tear spill from her cerulean eyes. Faced with her lack of reaction, Lexa continued.

“Roan, that’s Anya’s husband, was retrenched a couple of days ago. The company he was working for is suffering because of COVID, and they had to make cuts. Since he can’t afford the rent for now, he has to move back with his mother. So, Aden will move in with me.”

“Wait, what?”

Clarke hadn’t paid much attention to the beginning of her neighbor’s explanation, and she was thoroughly confused. She remembered something about Lexa’s nephew living with his father because Anya was pretty much stuck at the hospital and couldn’t take care of him, but why did the brunette have to take care of him all of a sudden? Why couldn’t he move to his grandmother’s place? Lexa seemed to have guessed her train of thought because she explained without prompting.

“Roan’s mother, Nia, is the spawn of Satan. I swear she is,” she repeated when the unexpected statement made the blonde chuckle. “She and Anya hate each other, and she is a big part of the reason my sister asked for a divorce. I met the woman once; she made my skin crawl. I swear, she looks like she could kill someone and chop off their head in cold blood. Anyway, there is no way Aden can stay with her, even Roan agrees. I’m pretty sure, if he could, he would rather be on my couch than at his mother’s.”

“So, Aden is going to stay with you,” the blonde repeated, finally connecting the dots. They had to stop seeing each other because Lexa would soon have an 8-year-old staying at her place 24/7, and the writer couldn’t exactly have her fuck-buddy come and go while he was around.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Clarke. I know it looks like I was using you, and now I just—”

“No, Lexa. It’s—I get it. Of course, you have to take care of your nephew. He comes first, and your sister is literally saving lives right now, and all,” the blonde interrupted. Despite her sadness, there was a relief in hearing that the brunette was forced to end things due to the circumstances, not because she had grown bored with Clarke.

 _I’ll miss you_ , was the one thing she wanted to say, but it was unfair. Unfair to burden Lexa with that knowledge when there was nothing that she could do about it, unfair to admit it when it went against their initial agreement. _No strings attached; until one of them called it quits_. Well, Lexa had, and for the best reason in the world, and Clarke had no right to be upset, or to make her feel bad about it.

“I should go. I’m sorry, again, for springing it on you like that.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Lex. Don’t worry,” she answered with a smile that felt fake even to her. “You can still stay for dinner, I mean, if you want to. I ordered so much Chinese food, I’ll eat it until next week if you don’t help me.”

And just like that, the two women found themselves sharing food, sitting next to each other at Clarke’s table. Once the first few awkward minutes had passed, they laughed and chatted like they always did. And when, after cleaning the table, the blonde leaned in to hug the writer goodnight, Lexa kissed her as usual.

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—”

The rest of her sentence was swallowed by Clarke’s mouth when the graphic designer grabbed the side of her face and reconnected their lips. The kiss had a taste of familiarity mixed with a desperation that had never been there. The blonde didn’t say the words, but both of them heard them anyway. It sounded like; _I didn’t know it would be our last time together. Please, give me one more night_. And Lexa complied, of course, she did.

The two neighbors moved to the bedroom in silence, their hands locked. In front of the bed, they removed their clothes one by one, not tearing their eyes off each other, until they were standing face-to-face naked. When Clarke lay on the bed, her skin hot against the cool sheets, the brunette crawled above her more slowly than she had ever done. Lexa kissed her, on the mouth first, and then on the cheeks, the chin, the jaw, behind her ears, down her neck. She took her time, mapping every inch of the blonde’s skin as if it was their first time all over again, as if she wanted to commit it all to memory.

The hand she wasn’t holding herself up with moved to cup one of Clarke’s breast, and the gentleness of it, a far cry from the typical urgency Lexa showed when faced with The Delinquents — the blonde affectionally referred to her boobs as such because they had got her in trouble far too many times to count — almost broke the older woman. She wanted to shake the 27-year-old and beg her to fuck her hard, to make her scream and mark her so she would remember it for days, but she didn’t. Instead, she took what Lexa gave her. The tenderness, the soft kisses, the caresses so light they tickled her skin, the love shining in those viridian eyes she was dying to paint but couldn’t find the exact color of.

After what had felt like hours of foreplay, the brunette entered her with one finger, and then two, the thrusts never faltering, but not quickening either. Clarke could feel how deep they were going, how they unraveled her from the inside out, one layer at a time, until there was nothing left of her but wanton need to break into Lexa’s arms, and so she did. She came with a cry, wave after wave of pleasure crushing on her, and though she had to close her eyes when it overwhelmed her, she could sense the green ones drilling into her all the way to her soul.

The blonde didn’t wait to fully recover before she rolled them over, too afraid that she would burst into tears if she did. Instead, she pushed Lexa’s shoulder with a shaking hand, and the writer didn’t fight back and pulled Clarke over her. The kisses that followed had more lust in them, they turned deeper, messier. It was the older woman’s turn to take what she wanted, to make sure the brunette wouldn’t forget her any time soon, and she put every effort into it.

Not wanting to put Lexa in an awkward situation with her nephew, she stopped herself from leaving red and purple marks on her throat. She, however, didn’t hesitate to paint the brunette’s chest and stomach with them. Her tongue and lips soothed the soft bites she left on the narrow hips and ribs, and if Lexa hissed and moaned, she didn’t utter a single complaint. It was only after Clarke was satisfied with her work that she truly began to touch her lover. She kneaded the small breasts with an almost methodical approach, lavishing the nipples with kisses and licks until her neighbor begged her to move things along.

The blonde lowered herself inch by inch, her smirk growing when she faced the neatly trimmed hair and the folds that glistened from the wetness escaping Lexa’s core. She peppered kisses on the shaking thighs and chuckled at the needy sound the brunette made. Two hands wrapped around her head and, gently but with some insistence, moved her to where Lexa needed her the most, and Clarke gave her what she wanted. A few long strokes of her tongue made the writer mewl and open her legs even more, and the older woman hoped she would forever remember the tangy taste of her neighbor. While her thumb traced small circles on the reddened pearl, she inserted her tongue in the warm and slick opening, as far as she could go. The position was taxing and her neck soon hurt, but the way the 27-year-old rolled her hips to fuck herself on her pink muscle was anything short of divine, and Clarke would rather take the kink that she could feel coming than stop.

When the brunette came all over her tongue with a moan, Clarke only gave her a few seconds to catch her breath before she flipped her onto her stomach. She knew that Lexa had a thing about weakness, she didn’t easily let herself be vulnerable. That made the blonde appreciate the display of trust even more when her lover didn’t argue or try to fight back and happily complied. The graphic designer blanketed the offered body with her own, her own clit rubbing against a firm backside while her teeth got acquainted with Lexa’s shoulder blades and neck.

Clarke entered her gently from behind, two fingers swallowed almost immediately by the still pulsating walls. She stayed away from the brunette’s clit for a few minutes, not wanting to overstimulate her, and instead used her own hips to push harder into her pussy all while painting Lexa’s butt with wetness. The flow of, “Clarke”, “Oh God”, and “Fuck” that was muffled by the pillow let her know that Lexa was well on her way to a second orgasm, and the blonde accelerated her movements. When she felt the hips under her buck against the mattress in search of friction, she maneuvered her index finger to rub against the erect clit, and the writer came again, her climax longer than the first.

Clarke rolled to her side so she wouldn’t crush her neighbor, or try to prevent her from leaving her apartment. Only her hand remained connected to the sweaty skin, drawing random patterns on Lexa’s arm and back. The silence stretched between them, and the blonde could feel her eyelids grow heavier when she heard a small apologetic voice.

“I have to go home. I need to prepare for Aden’s arrival, make the bed in the guest room and all.”

The older woman didn’t reply, because what was there to say? OK? I’ll see you around? Please don’t go? None of those sentences were acceptable, and in the end, she simply kissed the naked shoulder closest to her and hoped that Lexa would understand the affectionate gesture for what it was. A peace offering, a show of forgiveness for a crime that didn’t exist.

The brunette rolled out of the bed and dressed in silence, some heavy sighs escaping her bruised pouty lips from time to time. Before leaving the room, she circled the bed and placed one last kiss on the crown of Clarke’s head. It was only once the door latched that a single tear escaped her deep blue eyes, rolled down her temple, and landed on the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they will find their way back to each other very soon!


	6. Day 65

Clarke closed her Google Doc with a huff and rubbed her tired eyes. The client had emailed her at 5 PM and asked for some last-minute modification on the visuals before the campaign could launch, because, of course, they had, and she was tired. And pissy. And possibly a little horny. A terrible combination truly. It had been about 70 hours since she had last seen Lexa, and the absence of the stunning green-eyed brunette weighed on her more than she would have expected.

She was doing her best to convince herself that her body needed time to adjust. After two months of mind-blowing sex every other day, going cold turkey had some undesirable side effects that dampened her mood. Nothing to worry about. She had tried to masturbate the day before, but even her most trusted vibrator had only managed to deliver a half-orgasm and had left her more frustrated than before.

Her fourth cup of coffee of the day was brewing when a knock on her door interrupted the blonde’s internal rant about stupid clients and useless account managers who deal with them. After grabbing the box of reusable masks and putting one on, she opened the door and quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Lexa. Even with her large blue mask covering half of her face, her neighbor remained so beautiful Clarke’s inside twitched.

“Lexa? Is everything OK?”

“No, I mean, kind of. I’m so sorry to bother you, I need a favor. I mean, if you’re not working right now. I wouldn’t ask, but I don’t know anyone else nearby, and I didn’t know what to do…” the brunette, usually so self-assured, was rambling, and Clarke had to bite her lips to stop herself from chuckling. Or from dragging the woman inside and kissing her senseless. Definitely one of those two.

“Lex, calm down. What do you need?”

“It’s for Aden. Anya sent me a list of things he might need before he moved in, but the cereals are the wrong kind, Roan forgot to pack enough T-shirts, and the delivery services have been taken by storm and can’t cope with the number of orders. I have to go to the supermarket to grab some stuff. I would bring him with me, but it’s not recommended since you know, kids are not great at keeping their masks on, and I can’t leave him alone… I’m sorry to ask, especially after everything,” the writer cringed at her own words, and the _after I ended things between us because of him_ went unsaid, and yet Clarke heard it all the same, “but could you keep an eye on him until I return? He’s a sweet boy, you can just let him watch TV or—”

“Hey, Lex, it’s no problem, I just finished my work for today,” the blonde interrupted before the younger woman began to ramble again. “I’ll watch him, don’t worry. I used to babysit my neighbors’ kids back when I was in high school, and trust me he can’t be worse than Dax was!”

“Thank you, Clarke! I’m really sorry for asking. You should know that Roan is asthmatic so they were isolating strictly, there is very little risk of Aden being an asymptomatic carrier. Is there anything I can bring you back from the store while I’m at it? It shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes, 45 tops!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to some chocolate if you insist,” the graphic designer replied with a wink that made the brunette chuckle.

After grabbing her keys and assuring Lexa once more that she didn’t mind staying with her nephew for a while, Clarke followed the brunette into her apartment. She did her best to keep a straight face, but some of her surprise had to have transpired on her face because Lexa grimaced apologetically. The writer’s place had always been immaculate and much more organized than the blonde’s. And yet somehow, everything looked out of place. The shoes once methodically lined up by the door were mixed with smaller ones that poked at random intervals. Several plates and glasses occupied the sink — Clarke remembered the brunette interrupting their foreplay to wash the dishes before the sauce could dry. And most of all, a child sat in the middle of the couch, looking at her with large blue eyes, a Nintendo Switch in his hands.

The two women had talked a little about their respective families since Lexa’s breakdown, and they had shown each other pictures. Though the ones she had seen weren’t the most recent, Clarke immediately recognized the sandy-haired boy and smiled at him. Lexa had to have explained to him that the blonde was a friend, because he didn’t seem surprised to see her, or shy, and his face broke into a mirroring smile. He wasn’t particularly tall for his age, but a glint of intelligence shone in his eyes, a shade paler than Clarke’s, and he seemed like the quiet type. The graphic designer had a feeling that if she could get him to open up, they would get along splendidly.

After the customary introductions and a promise from her two guests not to burn her apartment to the ground, the brunette left the room and the two blondes who were staring at each other. The 29-year-old’s mouth twitched as she held in a chuckle. Aden had his head cocked to the side as he sized her up, an adorable display that reminded her so much of Lexa it made her heart melt. It was too soon to tell if the boy had inherited the jawline and high cheekbones that seemed to run in the Woods family, but there was no doubt that he would turn into a heartthrob one day.

To Clarke’s surprise, he put his device to the side and focuses his attention on her, asking her question after question. She brushed over the ones regarding her relationship with Lexa — who would want to explain the concept of friends-with-benefits to an eight-year-old? — but she happily told him about her mother and step-father Marcus and about her job. Luckily for her, being an artist sounded cool enough to impress her young charge, and Aden was eager to see some of her work. Since the blonde hadn’t brought her laptop with her and she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Aden alone, only minutes after promising Lexa to keep an eye on him, even though her place was just across the hallway, they compromised. They would draw together that day, and she would show him her work the next time she saw him.

An uneasy feeling washed over her as she made that promise. The writer, after all, hadn’t said anything about them meeting again. Lexa had been caught unawares and forced to ask Clarke for a favor, but knowing her, it wouldn’t happen again anytime soon. And yet, the 29-year-old let herself hope that, if everything went well between her and Aden, the brunette wouldn’t mind if she babysat again. She did love children, and it had been a while since she had had the chance to spend time with someone who could talk about anything other than work and the current pandemic. Except for Lexa, of course, who was as comfortable dissecting the latest Star Wars movies as she was discussing intersectionality. Not to mention that Clarke knew from experience that the brunette’s mastery of her tongue expanded far beyond witty remarks and intellectual discussions.

When the writer returned, 28 minutes later, from her grocery run, she found her nephew and her neighbor — lover? friend? the status of their relationship remained in limbo — intensely focused over two pieces of papers, pencils scribbling and tongues poking from their mouths. They acknowledged her return with grunts before returning to their task with haste, and only stopped when the timer on Clarke’s phone went off. The blonde lifted her head from her paper and had to admit that she was impressed by what Aden had produced in only 10 minutes. She recognized Lexa’s living room, with the couch, the TV against one of the walls, the coffee table, and the table they were on. The lines weren’t perfectly straight and the perspective was a little off, but the boy had talent, and he blushed at her praise.

“I should go back home,” Clarke said once the brunette was done putting away the groceries, and she hoped the dejection wasn’t too obvious in her voice. Before she could stand, the 27-year-old hesitantly replied, “Or, you could stay for dinner. If you don’t already have plans. There is more than enough for the three of us…”

The blonde’s mouth opened in surprise at the invitation, but a grin wasn’t far behind. She hadn’t wanted to impose, or make the writer uncomfortable by forcing her to interact with her in front of her nephew, but the truth was, Clarke didn’t want to leave. Nothing was waiting for her at home apart from frozen food and her laptop. She had had a blast watching Aden, and she would pick him and the brunette over Netflix any day of the week. Especially since, after over three months of telecommuting, she was running out of shows to watch.

“Sure. Can I help you with anything?”

“I bought some salad and tomatoes. Could you cut them while I fry some nuggets?”

The two women worked in the kitchen in comfortable silence while Aden resumed his game. They danced around each other with an ease that usually spoke of years of companionship, interacting with soft smiles and short sentences. More than once, Clarke had to stop herself from caressing the brunette’s back or kiss her shoulder as they stood side-by-side, two gestures far too tender for neighbors or even friends, especially in the presence of another person who wasn’t supposed to know that they had slept together. But then, when she noticed Lexa’s hand aim for her own arm and reroute itself at the last moment, she grinned at the realization that she wasn’t the only one suffering from this predicament.

The dinner was a joyful affair, full of laughs and funny stories. Despite the fact that he hadn’t seen his mother face-to-face in weeks and that his father couldn’t stay with him, Aden was a happy and smart kid and the perfect antidote to the global moroseness that plagued most adults those days. He told them about his friends’ latest shenanigans, his online lessons — some teachers struggled so much with Zoom that it was a wonder that lessons happened at all — and they watched some funny videos of cats on Instagram and YouTube. By the time the eight-year-old had to go to bed and hugged Clarke goodnight, the blonde was positively in love with the kid, and she almost asked Lexa if she could keep him forever.

“Thank you so much for today,” the brunette whispered once it was only the two of them sitting on the couch. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It was no trouble, Lex. I had fun; I really did. And you were right, he is a sweet boy. And so smart, my god! I don’t remember being half as knowledgeable when I was his age. All I cared about was drawing and running around the playground with my friends.”

“He loves that too to be fair, but yes, he is pretty amazing. I’m glad that he is into reading. It’s something that both his parents encourage, rather than putting him in front of a screen all the time to keep him quiet. And it’s good for me too since he’s here and I have to set a good example. It forces me to pick up a book or my Kindle rather than just scroll aimlessly on my phone for hours.”

The conversation died down as both women watched something silly on TV, their bodies subconsciously inching closer to each other. When their shoulders brushed, Clarke jumped out of the couch faster than a jack-in-the-box.

“I should go, it’s getting late.”

“OK,” the brunette replied with a small frown. “Thank you again, for everything.”

“Any time, Lex.”

The graphic designer had expected, and almost hoped, that the younger woman would remain seated and let her exit alone, but Lexa was too well-mannered for that. Instead, she graciously stood up and accompanied her to the door.

“Goodnight, Lexa.”

Neither woman dared to move as they looked at each other, ignoring the half-opened door next to them. This was the moment the 29-year-old had both dreaded and waited for. Her body was screaming at her to lean forward and kiss the pouty lips that haunted her daydreams, but her head kept telling her that this was a bad idea. They could be friends. They would be great friends, in fact, if she could get over her infatuation. Lexa didn’t have time for a relationship, she had her nephew to take care of and she hadn’t indicated that she wanted more than a warm body to relieve some stress. And yet, with the way those big viridian eyes were fixated on her lips, the blonde felt herself get wetter by the second. In the end, Lexa broke the spell in the sweetest way possible. She moved faster than Clarke had anticipated and left a kiss on her cheek before retreating with an unusual shyness.

“Night, Clarke.”

Speechless and with all the nerves in her cheek on fire, the blonde all but ran out of the apartment before she could push the brunette against her door and have her way with her, Aden or no Aden around.


End file.
